At Least I Didn't Stand Up and Tell Them All to F*** Off

I don’t know if you can remember all the way back to my previous post, but, despite all of that bitching about evangelical inability to explore spiritual truths when the medium contains too many f-words (contrary to how that sounded, I am actually referring to multiple instances of just one word, as opposed to resisting all words beginning with the letter “F”), I do still fraternize with many of them. There are many reasons for this, but the simplest version is that, on some level, we at least theoretically share a common view. One week ago, what we literary types might call the “inciting incident” for this blog occurred. A group of evangelical men tried to formulate some kind of approach to our shared culture. Hollywood was generally condemned, except for Juno, since the eponymous heroine doesn’t have the abortion she had considered, and anger was expressed about why there couldn’t be more films of that nature. 

This kind of talk has become very hard for me to endure. My thought tends to be that, when the psalmist wrote that the “earth is the Lord’s,” that he didn’t just mean trees and rocks and rivers and maybe movies made by evangelicals for evangelicals to invite their non-Christian friends to, with the promise of free food:

“Wait, you mean I get a free slice of pepperoni and all I have to do is sit through some poor tract-of-a-movie and endure the onslaught of eighteen earnest people all pressuring me to make a “decision for Jesus.” I sure can’t wait until I get old enough to sit through time-share presentations for a free night in Atlantic City!”

I am curious why so many people who pride themselves on taking the Bible literally fail to interpret that phrase from Psalms 24 as all of the created order. In his letter to the church at Corinth, St. Paul even cited that psalm to allay young converts’ fears about food offered to idols. The reformers might have talked about God’s works in creation and providence, all of which reflect something about the one who set upon them a stamp of approval calling them “Good!”

I can already hear some evangelical objections. Christian doctrine (at least in the west) speaks of a fall of humanity into a corrupted state. Do I mean to suggest that works created in a post-lapserian world by people who don’t even acknowledge the existence of a god can be called good? In a word, “Yes.” Isn’t the centerpiece of Christian history the carrying out of a redemptive work through an act of unrighteousness? If you doubt the Christian view of the simultaneity of this, check out St. Peter’s sermon in the Temple in Acts Chapter 3 or the prayers of early believers in the next chapter. Does this mean that we should speak highly of the people who committed this atrocity? No. Ought they be held accountable for their murder? Sure (as well as the thousands of other transgressions of thought, word, and action that they – and we – have perpetrated).

What about degrading cinematic forms like pornography? Are those “good” as well? I don’t want to venture into theodicy here, but I must trust that from some heavenly perspective they accomplish the divine will, even as we find them morally repugnant. On a more human level, let us not forget the role of sin as counterfeit. While the content might be something explicitly contrary to God’s law, there is a sense in which it unintentionally does honor to the very beauty it distorts. Obviously this does not mean I must watch what creates a problem for me, but there might be some helpful tools that allow you to find grace without doing yourself spiritual harm. Here’s what I’ve been thinking along those lines (by no means normative, but maybe helpful):

1. Know the Form/Genre – Film is a visual medium, and good films (of whatever genre) rely heavily on expressing their stories in visual terms. They may not tell you everything that you want to know or everything that you ought to believe. I think many Christians’ objections to film arises because (like the culture, as a whole) they are uncomfortable with ambiguity, and good films might rely upon visual means for relating the deceptive nature of appearances. Christians should be the last people to make snap judgments based upon sight. I acknowledge that some of this ambiguity in film might be related to the moral relativism of those who made it, but some might also arise from an admirable desire to provoke thought, as opposed to conclusions. 

There are many books and other resources out there that can help you get acquainted with the elements of film and how to evaluate movies. I find this one of the best. Find one that works for you.

2. Know Yourself – Acknowledge that there might be truly beautiful and admirable elements to movies that you just can’t watch. The other side of this issue is refraining from assuming judgmental postures toward those who are okay with films, books, or music that we are not. Our tendency is, of course, the opposite of this, projecting our own weaknesses onto other people and judging them according to those criteria in the worst possible light. Furthermore, snap judgments that are concerned primarily with how we appear to others will necessarily tend toward those areas that are easy to judge superficially. Forget sex, violence, and profanity for a moment. When was the last time you assessed your own tendency to gravitate toward films that feed a sense of futility of life or pride of your place in life?

3. Know the Culture – stop trying to wage the America-as-Christian-nation battle, acknowledge the world-wide uniqueness of the Christian subversion of quid-pro-quo, and begin working from an understanding of America-as-Babylon: a place of shallow self-centered values. Grace will then seem the exceptional quality that it really is, rather than an empty word from an irritatingly strident people. And when you see it (maybe even in your own life from time to time), you may be more likely to be thankful for it. To go with this, you might want to take advantage of one of the few sites that encourages Christian engagement and discernment.

4. Work within Community – Invariably, I am the worst judge of my own spiritual blind spots (hence the term blind spots). I might think that the worst things in the world for me to see on the big screen is a pair of naked boobies, while everyone around me realizes that my tendency to get caught up in the illusion of my own righteousness might make what most people think of as “safe” family viewing dangerous territory. The problem occurs when I am alienated from those who a) know me well enough to see the problem, b) possess discernment about such things, c) care enough to say something about it, and d) love me enough to persist. “a” tends not to be much of a problem, since your faults are clear to pretty much anyone who is more than even a casual acquaintance. Trust me. Our reluctance to get involved in others’ lives tends to be the biggest obstacle. If you are a Christian who doesn’t have caring community, perhaps you ought to check out your own commitment level or examine the nature of that body you call a “church.”

A more immediate application of this idea might be to try to watch with friends who you know don’t share your weaknesses. (Careful, this requires candor.) To use myself as an example, I find it especially helpful to let my wife serve as a set of “warning eyes” for explicit sexual content on screen, since my viewing it can incline me toward a distorted view of sexuality.

5. Change your glasses – I can’t tell you how many times I have had the list from Philippians 4:8-9 mis-represented to me. St. Paul tells that church to meditate on whatever things are pure, lovely, etc., but a responsible hermeneutic of this passage in light of most of the history of the Old Testament likely does not mean that we should think only about rainbows, peach cobbler, and smiling grandmothers. The purpose of our religion is not to make immoral people “nice,” but to raise the dead – a pretty violent act, to be sure. I hope it doesn’t seem impolite to you if someone tries to be candid (albeit from clouded perspective) about what spiritual deadness looks like to them. Although P.T. Anderson’s Magnolia is brutal to watch, he may have captured, better than any writer since Dostoevsky, how our self-absorption can cause us to abuse those we are supposed to love . Don’t you see… the book of Judges is “lovely” because the casting of a BIG problem suggests an even BIGGER solution.

One thinker I admire has said that "People of grace should be quick to spot grace when they see it."

Amen.

Fade.